Fall From Grace 2: Dusty Helmets
by FictionalIdiot
Summary: Simmons is unconscious and a plot to rule the universe by an insane AI is being put into motion. So basically every day in the life of the Reds and Blues. Rated T for some SERIOUS SHIT
1. Prologue

A/N Hi! FictionalIdiot here bringing you the sequel to Fall from Grace, Dusty Helmets. This prologue is the writing equivalent to an establishing shot. There's still plenty more on the way! I really hope you guys enjoy. I also hope CS doesn't kill me for uploading this without her EXPRESSED permission but, eh, can't have em all.

Prologue

Simmons didn't wake up.

Wash's hand on his shoulder didn't help, and the vaguely reassuring lies from Carolina about how she'd seen weaker men than Simmons pull through worse than this were lost on him. All he could see, all day, every day, was the gentle tick, tick, tick of the pacesetter they used to monitor the cyborgs heartbeat, and the weirdly purple dish soap on his middle right knuckle. Even on the rarity when he wasn't in the room (falling asleep at Simmons' side and waking up in his own room- courtesy of Caboose), he could hear the off-beat low noise that so often seemed like a countdown, hitting zero at any second.

"And we're sure Aloe Vera won't work?" he asked one day.

"Yes, we're sure," Tucker sighed from next to him. "Just as we're sure CPR and milk doesn't work. In fact, we're just as sure as we were five minutes ago, and when we actually tried Aloe Vera."

Grif winced, once again suddenly remembering that no, he wasn't the only one anxious about Simmons here. Tucker, Wash and Carolina were probably the most stressed out of them all, and he remembered, again, that he was doing nothing but nope whilst the other three tried desperately for ways to bring him out of unconsciousness. Again, he vowed to do more, think more, try something to help, but again he realised that he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to leave.

He cursed himself, almost cursed Simmons, before realising what he was doing and cursed Epsilon instead. Damn him, damn him, damn him to whatever hell there was. All Grif could do was hope AI could feel pain.

Perhaps even half of what he was feeling now.

[...]

Caboose was alone. Again.

Church… killed Church. If he could be bothered to, he'd be so confused- but if he looked up, he'd see the module Simmons made and if he saw the module he'd remember everything that happened and he didn't want to remember, he wanted to go back to last week and never come here again. He wanted Church to go, the mean Church who hurt Simmons, but he wanted him to stay, the want for company refusing to let him be in the cold of the night.

He buried his head into his pillow, refusing to let the tightness in his chest escape, before his determination flickered, and the sadness, again, filled his life with a presence that wasn't… quite… there…

He didn't care if Washingtub heard and pushed the door open, attempting to speak with him. He didn't care if Tucker came too, if he talked to Caboose. And if they tried to shake him, their voices becoming louder and louder, then all he'd do was bury himself further away. Because if Church was gone, again, what was there to do?

[...]

Every night Wash would awake him from his sleep, calming him with soft words and understanding gazes and gentle hands that combed through his hair. And Tucker would let himself be held, grasping onto the warmth the ex-freelancer provided as if it would slip through his fingers like sand- and who was to say it wouldn't? Church was taken from Caboose, their only hope of getting him back being Simmons, who was in no position to salvage the torn remains of Church himself, being in a coma and all that.

Wash's platinum hair glinted in the light from the synthetic moon, his grey-blue eyes meeting Tucker's with nothing but a tense sadness and stress lying within the storm. His insides screwed up (like he did everyday) and he looked away, knowing that these nightmares weren't helping- the exact opposite, in fact. The ex-Freelancer needed his sleep, rushing around to make sure the base was fortified, taking care of Caboose and Grif and… himself. Wash's usually warm coppery lemony scent was a salty sort of sweet from stress, and tracing the scars that adorned his arms with a finger, Tucker couldn't help but notice how drawn they seemed, how the lines framing his storm-cloud eyes were more pronounced. Because of him.

A familiar pair of warm, muscled, scarred arms wrapped themselves around his middle, and he leaned back out of habit, accepting the comfort wordlessly.

[...]

Sarge was the only one with medical training who hadn't turned traitor (dirtbag). He'd had to deal with bullet wounds and healing unit failure occasionally but he couldn't do it. Fixing… saving Simmons wasn't possible to him. Luckily, with the life of his second in command on the line, he'd called in a favour from people who were very indebted to them.

A familiar chirpy, female voice piped up from behind the red ex-CO. "It's good to finally arrive here! I've heard so much about this place! I love it! It's so… so…" The happy-go-lucky tone and cheerful exterior threw their entire situation into sharp relief. Grey should know, which her smarts and psychoanalysis and fancy majigery that this is not a good day to fall into depression.

Grey seemed to realise that. The smartest woman on Chorus knelt down next to Sarge. It was one of her rare, more serious moments. "I'm sorry for what's happened. Really. I can't imagine what your going through. All the people I saw die… I had no real relation. I learned to distance myself. To see someone you know so well like this… I don't need psychoanalysis to know you must be dying inside. It helps, but it's all too obvious you're not in the mood to have me poking around in your brain at the moment. I'll need him in a minute, but you have your time. Goodbye for now sir."

As the mad woman left the room, Sarge realised how… how senseless he'd been. "I think it's time I changed, Simmons."

[...]

Simmons was asleep. Fully aware of everything around him and forced to remain… in this state. In a state of unconscious mental shutdown, a version of Simmons, a subroutine usually relegated to system maintenance would sit and record. It was a failsafe program and recently, it had been upgraded so the AI was controlled by Simmons. He'd been here, stuck inside an empty black void for most of the past week.

Right now, he watched Sarge sit over his semi-human body. Grif was in bed- Caboose had moved him there, Simmons heard it happen every day. If he could move he'd chuckle. But he couldn't.

"It's good to finally arrive here!" Sarge had called in Dr. Grey from Chorus. He couldn't fix Simmons himself, so he practically wasted the time of the smartest woman on Chorus to save Simmons' life. Sarge did that, braved conversation with a girl for him. He was cared about. He was loved.

It was all he'd ever wanted.

Plus there was the added bonus of Grif confessing to Simmons while he slept, a thousand times over. He already had a thousand quips he could use but he knew the first thing he'd do when he woke up. Hug Grif. Sarge was sombre. Dr. Grey had a very depressing talk about how sad everyone was and Sarge sat there in complete contemplation. "I think it's time I changed, Simmons."

What? "I've been so… so… senseless and cruel recently. But I've had a change of heart. I know you can hear me and on any other day I'd be yelling for you to get off your lazy ass and start telling us everything that happened in there… but today… just for today… I'll let you have this one. Get some rest kiddo. We know you're fighting the good fight, so we'll send in reinforcements."

He practically glowed with pride- kiddo. He had a family- Sarge finally saw him as the son to him Simmons dreamed of being. Maintenance- the subroutine AI- glanced up in questioning, but he waved it down. Now was a time to simply relish in the fact that he was loved. It was a warm feeling, embracing him like a golden blanket.

"Dr. Grey! I'm ready. Take him, but know if you don't bring him back in time for tomorrow morning… Kimball won't blame me in introducing your face to the dangerous end of my shotgun. Got that?"

"I won't let you down sir."

Simmons chuckled in his mind. "Hey. That's my line."

A/N 2: CS- FI's right. Many mistakes were made, and much surgery was done. What we ended up with (after I re-upload this edited version) is a Frankenstein of a fic.

Seriously, FI. Paragraphs are a thing.

Please review and follow if you want to see more! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 1: The Earlybird

**A/N:** CS- I'll tell you what's _also_ a thing- basic courtesy to the characters you're supposed to be writing. I admit, we went ahead and used some fairly strong language to describe characters in FFG, but that was a little thing called _being in character._ Tell you what's not in character Caboose calling Tucker a pervert. I don't really care how many times Caboose actually swears in the show, he is sweet and innocent and a ball of fucking sunshine. He had _no clue_ what Tucker was talking about when he referenced his "crown jewels". Also, I would ask that you refrain from calling Caboose a retard. I told you this in private, but I'll say it here again. I will not tolerate it, especially at Caboose, the angel. I do not like the word. I do not like _any_ derogatory words, and it pains me to write them.

Also in a section that is supposedly Caboose's POV, why was the "r" word used _there,_ of all places? Consider how the character _thinks,_ for fuck's sake!

 **Chapter 1: The Earlybird**

Grif groaned, groggy and miserable as he woke. The room was cold, empty without the familiarity of the warm, blinking lights to greet him each morning. He shifted, unwilling to drag himself up, but a name caught his attention through the middle of restless sleep. How could it not?

"...Simmons is doing well as far as we can tell, just sleeping. Well- we hope."

He couldn't ever remember getting up this fast, ever moving this fast whilst thinking so slowly. Next moment, he was at the door, panting in frustration. "Simmons. What's- is Simmons alright?"

He raised his head to see a familiar purple-trimmed armoured woman standing with Wash, Carolina, and Tucker. "Doctor Grey…"

"Hello again, Grif!" the psychoanalyser called, and Grif vaguely observed that she'd changed her helmet... "I see that you are well, though understandably worried over your maroon friend. He's in the next room, with Sarge. Completely fine, of course. I made sure of that."

"Completely fine." Simmons was- "He's gonna be okay."

"Yep! I also believe that he will want to see you when he wakes up. So you should probably head on there, cuz although he isn't due to wake for a while, maybe an hour or two, it is always better to be safe than sorry."

He nodded and slunk into the next room, because there was nothing more to be said. Simms was gonna be okay. Grey was sure of it, and he'd trust her with his own life a thousand times over. So he knew exactly how safe Simmons was.

[...]

Caboose awoke to the usual silence, he rolled over, as depressedly as a three-year-old in an adults body could and noticed the time. Simmons and Grif had just gotten into teaching him numbers and times before… well, everything. But he could read the digital clock on his bedside table now!

It was nine o'clock. He was supposed to wake up at eight o'clock so Caboose was, unsurprisingly, confused. Did the times change? Was it now brushing-teeth-time _before_ breakfast-time? That didn't make any sense. Everyone knew what the times were, so why change it? Church would probably-

Freckles, who Sarge had repaired after the incident, beeped into life. "Good morning Captain Caboose."

"Hello Freckles. Why is it not eight o'clock? Did the alarm sleep in too?"

"The alarm was deactivated by Captain Tucker. He has left you a message in my surveillance files. Would you like to hear it?"

"Oooh! It's a message! Play it please Freckles!"

The turquoise aqua ex-marine's familiar voice played. "Morning Caboose! Just wanted to tell ya Simmons is gonna be waking up soon! Dr. Grey came and fixed him up- well, she will have. We're kinda waiting on that right now. But we know she will! See ya at red base Caboose!" The message ended as quickly as it started.

"Freckles… I'm going to need to get out of my pajamas."

[...]

"He's not going to notice, Tucker. He's probably making us breakfast right now." Wash argued, skeptical of Tuckers plan to get Caboose to come over.

The ex-space marine simply smirked, leaning back on one leg with his arms crossed in the typical "schooling" pose. "Yeah you're about to feel like an asshole in three, two, aaand-"

"SIMMONS IS WAKING UP! AND THAT MEANS CHURCH TOO!" Caboose's voice carried across the entire canyon.

"Sorry, what was that? I thought I just heard something. Nah, couldn't possibly be-" Tucker cut off, chuckling, and then full on laughed at the adorable pout that adorned Wash's face, enjoying the fact that for once, Wash was wrong about something.

"Will someone shut him up, please," the exasperated voice of Carolina called from through the doorway, and Tucker only laughed harder as Wash narrowed his steel eyes at him and pushed past, answering with a weary "I got it."

[...]

Grif had found a pulse along Simmons' arm. Not that he hadn't been able to find one before, but now… Simmons was due to wake up. And so Grif felt almost a… a _duty_ to measure and record that tiny, measurable proof of life with the efficiency of the machine that happened to be sitting opposite him. But he didn't trust that machine. He didn't trust any machine, really. Machines lie too much, and he can't afford lies, can't afford mistakes, not here. Not now, when Simmons might be returned to him.

He ran a thumb over the just-warm skin of milk white, somewhat hypnotised by the odd sight of Dutch Irish brushing over Dutch Irish. He glanced back down to his own arm, on the opposite side to the one holding on to Simmons like a lifeline. It was the opposite end of the spectrum, the well- tanned brown clashing with creamy white. Simmons had given up so much for him…

And Grif was going to make it up to him. He sort of had to, now reminded once again of the stirring golden sphere of light and warmth within his core. He had to say it now, one last time, before it would matter and drive them apart.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the covers, letting it fall softly on the thin shape underneath them that he recognised to be Simmons' legs. "I love you," he mumbled into the fabric.

Beneath his hand, the thin but steady throbbing of heartbeat picked up, before the hand moved beneath his and held it. Grif's eyes snapped open to meet one red eye, electronic and blank, and the other green, vibrant, grassy, jade green, brilliant, deep, hypnotising, bright green that danced with life and something else that Grif realised he had seen before, many, many times. The grip on Grif's arm, the arm Simmons had given to _save him-_ tightened, and he leant down, down to whisper something hoarse and faint in his ear.

"That's… _all_ I ever wanted to hear."

Grif thought he might flood with joy, explode, cry, tell Simmons over and over and over- before the cyborg collapsed on his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 2: The Rain

**A/N:** CS- Well I've done my obligatory English lesson for the day, as well as filled both my angst and fluff quotas!

Also someone pray for me I've had a migraine since late Thursday and this is the first thing I've written since then I can't do this anymore SOMEONE GET THIS HEADACHE TO MOVE THE FUCK ALONG!

Reviews are cookie's! And bourbons! The biscuit, not the whiskey, to you Americans, but it might as well be. If so, we're probably gonna be recovering alcoholics rather than mildly obsessed with biscuits. Yeah, just give us biscuits. We'll die of diabetes, and there won't be much difference about it.

In other words, **please review and follow if you want to see more!** Thanks!

Fuck yea.

 **Chapter 2: The Rain**

"How'd it go?" Wash asked, looking up from where he was sat on the benches, one hand combing through Tucker's dreads.

"Put it this way. He didn't sing the DuckTales theme song."

"For the _love of God,"_ Wash gritted out, temporarily stopping his rhythmic massage. "I thought we'd finally stopped with that!"

"Nah, dude," Tucker yawned. "We're _never_ gonna let you live that down."

Grif chuckled "Ah-woo-oo~!" he sang.

"Hang on…" Wash's eyes narrowed conspiritally. "You usually mention how I fell asleep like a toddler."  
"Ah." Grif swallowed. "That would be because Simmons kinda fell asleep on my shoulder. So I can't really poke fun at you… for falling asleep… on Tuckers shoulder."

There was silence- "...Are you fucking kidding me?"

"WHEN SIMMS DOES IT IT'S CUTE!"

"OH, AND WHEN I DO IT IT'S NOT?"

"YEAH!"

"WELL FUCK YOU THEN!"

"NO FUCK YOU!" This went on for several minutes before Tucker finally stood up and said:

"Ladies, ladies please! You're both beautiful, can I go home now?"

"NO," Wash howled, burying his head into Tucker's shoulder. "Don't leaaave meeee~..."

"And so, I'm going to leave," Grif quickly interrupted, backing into Simmons' room.

The last thing he heard before the door slammed shut was a sigh and a resigned voice assuring, "Yes, Wash, I think you're cute. I think you're absolutely _fucking_ adorable."

The door slammed shut.

[...]

 _ChurchChurchChurchChurchChurchSimmmonsisgoingtofixChurchIamgoingtoseeChurchagainohmygodandTuckerandWashingtubandeveryoneisgoingtobehappyand-_

"Caboose?"

"Yes, Agent Washingtub?"

"You look like you're gonna explode, dude. Calm down, everything's gonna be fine!" Tucker flashed him the usual shit-eating grin, and Caboose just jumped on the spot like a pogo stick, before continuing to _runrunruneverythingishappyandnothingcouldevergowrongeveragainbecauseChurchiscomingbacktohimChurchChurchChurchChurchChurch-_

"Ow," he complained, smacking into a rock. _ChurchChurchChurchChurchChurchChurchChurchChurchChurch-_

" _Seriously,"_ Carolina screamed from across the canyon. "Wash, shut him the fuck up!"

"Sorry, Agent Christmas Song!" Caboose yelped. "I will stop now!"

"SHUT UP or I will _rip you limb from limb!"_

Caboose flopped where Wash had caught him by the scruff of the neck, forcing the ex-freelancer to drop him. "What's with Agent Carol?" he asked with the usual good-natured curiosity.

Tucker sighed and sat down next to him, whilst Wash flicked a worried glance to Blue Base and headed over to check on the fellow ex-freelancer. "You know how Carolina was really tired looking after Simmons when he was asleep?"

"No." Caboose was in his room for most- if not all of the time since evil-Church was mean and Simmons fell asleep.

"Well, Carolina was looking after Simmons, and Grif, and really all of us for a very long time. And now she's tired and has a really bad headache, I think. Either way, she's a pissed off female, and we shouldn't go anywhere near her."

"What about Wash? He is going to talk to Carolina."

Tucker simply shrugged. "Wash is different. As in he's suicidal. Seriously, we should get the hell out of here before something blows up."

Cue explosion.

[...]

Sarge sat on the cliff overlooking red base. He looked to his left and saw blood gulch as he never had before. As a place he shouldn't be. He heard the voices of Blue team next to him. "What are they doing?" The rifle-less blue asked.

"I told you. They're just standing around talking. That's all they're doing. That's all they ever do is just stand around and talk!" The voices echoed away, beckoning new ones.

"You ever wonder why we're here?" Asked the voice of an Oh-so familiar suck-up.

The orange one next to him replied. "Well, it's one of life's greatest mysteries, isn't it. Why are we here?"

Conversations from years ago, ones he'd never heard before and yet felt a kindred relationship with. The voices grew angry. He heard more recent ones. Even his own voice. "DO YOU HAVE IT GRIF? BECAUSE IF YOU DO, THEN I HAVE A WAY OUT! Just for me though. You sad sacks are still gonna be stuck here."

The Sarge of the past laughed. "God what a dick." Sarge said aloud. His past self whipped around, cocking a shotgun right at his face.

"Who in Sam Hell are you?" he growled.

Sarge leveled him with his own glare, and the shotgun dipped slightly in submission. "I'm you from the future idiot and you are being a total JACKASS, now drop and give me infinity!"

Sarge watched as past him obeyed and the memory faded. Caboose sat next to him. Oddly, the overly innocent blue had become a recent representation of his conscious. "Are you okay Mr. Pirate?" the dipshit asked.

"I think I need to sit here a while. Talk to you about.. Everything."

"I think I understand. " The voice changed to the voice he both dreaded and longed to hear at the same time. Simmons's voice.

"Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."


	4. Chapter 3: The Worm

A/N So I realised because of the way this chapter was made we didn't have an author's note! Plus it started with a [...] soooooo I needed to fix that. Little insight here, me and CS wrote this chapter and the last one as one chapter but because it was too long, we had to Sonic 3 and knuckles it (Review if you get that) and split it into two: The Rain and The Worm. Next chapters gonna be The Other Worm. Look forward to it!

Chapter 3: The Worm 

Grif narrowed his eyes conspicuously. "You fell asleep. On my shoulder."

"How is that my fault?" All drugged up and with something hooked up to his nose, Simmons sounded kinda nasally. In a weird way, Grif supposed it fit the dictionary-definition of "literal nerd" sitting opposite him, but nothing else about him did. Simmons' skin looked at the same time too pale and too blotchy, and felt slick with sweat to the touch. Not helping was the obvious strain Simmons had to endure to simply sit up. Grif watched as Simmons grunted and slowly sat up in the make-shift hospital bed. "I guess it's not," Grif answered slowly. "But it made Wash pissed as fuck."  
"Dude, Wash is always pissed. If not at you, then at Tucker. Or Caboose. Or sometimes Sarge. You know, I heard Tucker mention that he can do a really good Sarge impression once." And they were back into the rut they were always in. Bitching about anything that comes to mind. God, Grif had missed this.

"Hey I'm the one he's usually pissed at the least!" he protested. "I don't see why he'd be pissed at me at all, I never do anything!"  
Simmons managed to grin and roll his eyes. "I'm gonna call the cliche card here and point out that it's because you do nothing that Wash is pissed. Although I guess it's a handy philosophy when dealing with Blue Team Problems."  
"Don't. And how well has it served us?"

"In reality? Not all that well, but I suppose when it's actually worked…"

"We still go back and help them anyway," Grif finished, realising where this was going.

"Bingo. So really, trying not to do anything has just lead us around in circles, wasting more effort avoiding the thing which we're supposed to be doing, and then we're backed into a corner in which we end up doing the thing anyway."  
"I suppose."  
Simmons groaned. "Thinking on all that, I'm not even sure why you can be bothered, sometimes. Seems like being lazy is more hassle than it's worth."

"It's a 50-50 chance, I think. Of whether I do shit or not. Like, usually it works and I'm sitting in the caves smoking, eating, and generally doing nothing. But when I luck out, I luck out big time."  
"You do put up a fight, though," Simmons mused, "Which on any other subject would make sense. But you're fighting with your friends about not fighting with your enemies. Seems a little… yeah." Grif did not miss the smirk adorning Simmons' mouth, insanely kissable against pale skin- not the time.

"Gimme some slack," He complained right back, grinning in unison with the cyborg who have him his heart. "All I want to do is to not do anything. And doing something to not do as much doesn't count,because it's not the amount that you do. It's the doing nothing that actually matters."

Simmons shrugged- "Fair enough."

They sat in silence for a while, easy due to years of being around each other near constantly. Grif just wished he could sidled closer, but with Simmons in the drugged-up state that he was in, he didn't dare. It seemed Simmons didn't care, though, as a cybernetic hand gripped his Hawaiian one, using it to pull himself back up from where he had settled back against the propped-up pillows. Thankfully, Simmons weighed more than he looked, though unluckily, this caused Simmons to pull him towards the bed, rather than Simmons out of it.

Or maybe that was part of the plan.

"Hey, Grif," Simmons blinked up at him sweetly. "Could you help me get up?"

Grif swore Karma and Simmons were conspiring together in revenge for all the years in which he knew nothing.

Ignorance wasn't the bliss it claimed to be, not whilst there was a part of him missing.

[...]

Donut walked in from the kitchen, a cake in his hands, delightfully steaming hot and fresh out of the oven. "Hey Simmons!" He greeted, glad to see the reddish-brown red up and about- and just in time for his cake, too! Donut attempted to suppress the wicked grin attempting to morph his features. "Good to see you're awake! I baked you a cake!" Grif smirked from where he and Simmons sat at the squarish table.

"Oh boy, what flavour?" He drawled sarcastically. Donut chuckled happily to himself, innocently. Or as innocent as one could be, in his position. After all- no, don't give the game away, not yet.

"I'm glad you asked!" Setting it down on the table, Donut watched excitedly as Grif and Simmons looked at it doubtfully. Grif poked the top warily, eyeing the perfect bronze-gold look of any fruitcake worth it's salt. Of which it has none, because its a fruit cake. "It's actually beetroot and coffee!"

"Here it comes," Simmons hummed expectantly. So he was a 90's fan as well, huh? He knew Wash was… Maybe they could start a fan-club! "You'd be surprised how much the earthy flavour comes through!"

"Okay stop there, please you've said it, it was fine, no need to-" Simmons was too late. He was too late before he even met him. His entire career had been preparing him for this one moment-

"It really penetrates your tastebuds!" Donut chirped gleefully.

"GODDAMNIT DONUT!" Simmons and Grif yelled in unison.


	5. Chapter 4: The Other Worm

**A/N** So when we eventually upload this, know it was WRITTEN (or at least began being written) on the 25th of April. So we were lazy. Shut up

 **Chapter 4: The Other Worm**

"So! Whaddaya think?" A voice glitched.

A purple marine hummed, sitting on a folding chair in a cave. His voice was surprisingly… evil.

"Oh I'm sorry, I was supposed to be paying attention?" O'Malley chuckled to himself whilst the holographically represented AI flipped a table he'd conjured into being.

"Goddamnit! Why do I bother? Why did I have to get the world's worst villain as my FIRST henchman."

"You forget Church," The evil AI said. "I'm the original bad boy."

"What have I told you about calling me Church! I told you. My name is Echo. Simmons gave it to me. Church is with them! I am Echo and I will destroy the world if it means Caboose will just shut up and STAY WITH ME! IT'S MY ONLY PURPOSE!"

"Woah." O'Malley said in a monotone voice. " _Subtle_ exposition for those who didn't read the first one."

"Oh come on, _surely everyone that's reading this has read the original Fall from Grace, right?_ "

"There goes the fourth wall."

"Aww, I liked that wall." That voice belonged to Doc, who had been forcefully dragged into this. He got to speak but nothing else or he'd die. Or at least that was what O'Malley had said.

"Shut up, Doc." Echo sighed. "Anyway. Here's the plan."

[...]

"Alright, that should Church back, just gonna do some personality tests." Simmons was in his workshop, his boyfriend spectating his "nerdy science shit" and offering helpful advice where he could. So far, Grif had only talked about a new TV show he was watching. "Alright Grif, shut up for a second. Church?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your least favourite movie trope?"

"Where they cut to the B plot when some shit is about to go DOWN in the A plot." Simmons nodded.

"Yeah, that's just shitty writing, everyone hates that."

"So I'm back?" Church asked. Simmons thought for a moment. He had the uncanny ability to seem both sarcastic and serious at the same time. It was a very british trait so Simmons assumed it was from his dutch irish heritage.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Cool. Can't believe I finally know what it feels like to be Donut." Simmons and Grif shuddered.

"We're sorry about that." Grif said quickly. Church thought a moment. If he could change his face it would be both grimacing and about to throw up.

"I did _not_ realise what I was saying there."

"Thank _god._ " There was a moment of silence. Followed by the loudest and most terrifying sound anyone can hear in their entire lives.

"OH MY GOD! CHURCH IS BACK."

Church barely had time to say "Shit" before he was ran at by his overly childish soulmate. "Caboose! Are you alright?" The innocent blue arose from the ground.

"Yup. I just fell on the ground trying to hug you Church. But you're back now and I feel REALLY un-depressded." Church would've been impressed that Caboose knew a word as long as "depressed", however it was clear that Caboose had heard it, tried to say it and decided that the way he said it was correct. Like he did with every other long word in the universe.

Nevertheless, Church tried his hardest to sound genuine when he said: "Well done with the long word Caboose!"

"I know! Isn't it neat? I heard Dr. Grey saying it to Simmons. Something about how she'd been through what he's going through and how she still was and how if Simmons was feeling depressed he should call her! It was a looooong conversation."

Grif and Simmons turned and had a small whispered conversation.

"She knows you're gay _and_ taken right?"

"Yeah. She and I are friends. Just. Friends."

"Are you sure she wasn't hitting on you?"

"Grif. I brought it up after she handed me her number. She said 'Oh no, silly! I don't have a crush on _you_! I have a crush on Agent Caroli-'"

"I KNEW IT!" They both looked back for a second. "I knew it!" Grif whispered.

"Oh we're totally giving Carolina her number."

"Yup. In a bit. I need my second mid afternoon nap."

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

 **A/N 2** So yeah. I was dumb and didn't write anything for fucking ever. ChickenSpoon and I have been having tests and shi- oh who am I kidding, we were lazy as FUCK. Soooo whilst I know this is NOT an acceptable amount to post after a few MONTHS of hiatus, we will be getting back to things in a regular schedule. Just give us a couple decades.


	6. So long and thanks for all the fish

**THIS PROJECT HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED**

FictionalIdiot here. Sorry. Really. We just cannot find the motivation or time to keep writing this. ChickenSpoon has given up and I'm about as lazy as Grif. However, this is your chance! If you want to write for the project, feel free to hit me with a PM. When we're going again I'll edit the chapter and tell you! I'll even give you credit for the story, which you can then, copy, paste and re-upload to publish as your own. This also isn't the end of me, or CS for that matter. I have a few ideas for where I can go next… but for now they're secret. I also HIGHLY recommend you go check out FFG if you haven't already and read some of CS's RWBY fics. Anyway. Have a great day, thanks for reading and from me and ChickenSpoon, we hope you all enjoyed.


End file.
